


inch by (painstaking) inch

by calciseptine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:14:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8949802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciseptine/pseuds/calciseptine
Summary: "Forgive me, zolotse moye," Victor says. "I forget myself, around you."





	

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to ariel and shar, who were willing to scream with me

Yuuri has just stepped out of the bathroom and is drying his hair when Victor says, "It's gotten a little long, hasn't it?"

Yuuri stops. Pushes the damp towel away and across his shoulders. Blinks at Victor, and says querily, "What?"

"Your hair," Victor clarifies with a gentle smile. He is lounging on the couch, dressed in a simple oversized sweater, long thermal underwear, and heavy woolen socks; Makkachin is splayed happily across Victor's thighs, head against his stomach.

"Oh." Yuuri reaches up and runs a hand over his head, from the crown of his skull to the nape of his neck. He hasn't gotten it cut since before the Grand Prix series began, back in late September. "I guess it has."

Victor hums—a nonchalant sound—before he sets his tablet down against his chest and gestures for Yuuri to come to him. Yuuri obeys without thought, his bare feet a whisper against the herringbone floors. He pushes the small, blue velvet ottoman closer to the matching couch and sits down.

"It's getting in your face," Victor muses as he brushes Yuuri's fringe back. His fingers are cool against Yuuri's skin, warm from the heat of his shower. "Soon I won't be able to see your beautiful eyes."

A blush blazes across Yuuri's cheeks.

"Ahh," Victor exclaims, voice tinged with affection. "There it is."

"Victor," Yuuri murmurs. It is both an admonition and an adoration; though it has been weeks since he took silver and moved to St. Petersburg, he is not quite used to this new brand of Victor's mischievousness. "Stop teasing me."

"Who said I was teasing?"

" _Victor._ "

The other man laughs—low and light—and lets his touch fall from Yuuri's cheek to the curve of Yuuri's jaw. "Forgive me, _zolotse moye_ ," he says. "I forget myself, around you."

Yuuri's blush deepens. He still feels the sting of embarrassment every time Victor praises him, but he bears it since Victor's words come from a place of absolute acceptance. There is nothing malicious in what Victor says; indeed, the only cruelty between them is the distance between their mouths.

"So," Yuuri says as he forces his stare from Victor's lips. "Should I get it cut?"

"Hmmm?" Victor vocalizes.

"My hair," Yuuri elaborates. "If you think—I mean, if it's gotten too long."

Victor's fingers move again, a touch that whispers a secret from the angle of Yuuri's jaw to the arch of his exposed collarbone. Yuuri cannot suppress his shiver; he has not gotten used to the way Victor touches him, either.

"Too long?" Victor's tone is contemplative. "No. Not that."

"Do you want me to keep it, then?" Yuuri asks softly.

Victor's eyes flicker from the ends of Yuuri's hair to meet Yuuri's gaze, the normal brilliance of his irises desaturated by the warm glow of the floor lamp and the dark winter night beyond the windows. Despite being dressed down and visibly tired from a long day on the rink, he is as breathtaking as he was the first time Yuuri laid eyes on him.

"I want you to do what you want," Victor answers.

"What I want?" Yuuri parrots as he looks down at Victor's lips again. "I can work with that."

And when he leans forward, eager to kiss the color back into his finacé's pale mouth, Victor curls one hand into Yuuri's growing hair and meets him halfway.

.


End file.
